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The Bell Ringer struck by the orc's iron fist was hurled backwards, his headless body tracing an arc through the air before crashing into a nearby wooden fisherman's hut. The wall gave way with a deafening crash, and the broken corpse landed atop a shattered table.
"Is he dead…?"
Wang Yu's gaze lingered for a breath on the Bell Ringer's remains. No crimson blood spilled from the broken corpse—only a black, ink-like liquid that oozed out in sluggish rivulets.
The ink-like fluid seeped across the floor of the ruined hut. As it spread, the Bell Ringer's motionless body began to fade, turning translucent before vanishing entirely.
With a powerful stomp, Wang Yu propelled the berserk orc's body forward and charged the remaining two Bell Ringers. The savage expression on the orc's face, combined with the crimson haze of bloodlust in his eyes, created a chilling dissonance.
The sonorous toll of a bell rang out as Wang Yu rushed forward. Before...
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